Not I
by GratefulInsomniac
Summary: Season 4. After speaking to the Mirror Syndrome patient, House and Cuddy both DENY being the alpha personality. 2-3 chapter short story.
1. The Thrill of Defeat

_A/N-This comes from a prompt from freeasabird14. I'll include the original prompt at the end of this chapter. This will be a 2 or 3 chapter short story. This one isn't too serious or dramatic, just some deflection, banter, tension and fun stuff. (A bit of light after A Thousand Hands).  
_

___Begins in Season 4 during "Mirror, Mirror"._

**_***I don't own these characters. This fic contains adult language and situations._**

* * *

**-The Thrill of Defeat-**

They watched through the glass, Wilson and Foreman, eager to know what the patient with Mirror Syndrome was going to say. Those looking on at House and Cuddy understood that whoever was determined to be the alpha personality would have some powerful bragging rights and win the bet. As soon as they were in front of the patient, they began stating their cases. No one outside could hear the words, only muffled sounds and muted tones.

House and Cuddy listened while the patient said something and each responded with attempts to assert their power. The patient said something else, there was a small flurry back and forth, a debate between them to argue that the evidence was on their side, and then it happened, some statement from the patient that made House feel certain he could claim victory. He was immediately gloating while Cuddy continued to plead her case, but House was undeterred. He was starting to really revel, his celebration was reaching its peak, when the patient said one more thing.

House and Cuddy both looked at the man, their attention snapping forward. They were completely still, wordless and stunned for nearly ten long, silent seconds. House's merriment came to an abrupt halt at the sound of a few short words.

As soon as their focus turned from attack to defense, they pivoted toward each other, hands in front of themselves protectively for a moment, trying to distance themselves from whatever had been said. Each began pointing at the other in frantic accusation. Even those outside could tell that House and Cuddy were each claiming that the owner of whatever thoughts the patient had shared could _not_ have been them. Their argument seemed unnecessarily ardent until House started backing away carefully so he could get out the door and far away from the suggestion that crashed unexpectedly between them.

When House finally escaped the confines of the patient's room, Foreman asked, "What in the hell did he say?"

House had sweat beading across his forehead as he pushed past those waiting outside, saying only, "He thinks Cuddy's the alpha."

The audience stood there, stunned for a moment. Everyone else left, only Wilson and Foreman waited for Cuddy. They watched as Cuddy stood next to the patient, one hand leaning on the bed rail, and spoke to him for a few minutes. She nodded somberly as they spoke before bidding goodbye. Walking out of the room slowly, she appeared to be taken aback, although less pallid than House. Foreman asked her, "Do I have a job or not?"

Cuddy looked back through the window at the patient, she seemed to be on a timed delay, and then looked at Foreman, "Of course you have a job. No matter what he says," she pointed with an open hand at the patient, "I'm still in charge of this hospital. This isn't a playground, it's an institution of medicine. You have a job."

"OK," Foreman answered, still waiting for more information.

"But what did he say?" Wilson asked her.

She looked at Wilson and back at the patient again, still unsteady. Finally looking at the two doctors after what seemed like an eternity, she answered, "House is the alpha. But if he wants control of this hospital, he'll have to apply for my job. My hospital, my decision."

With that, Cuddy disappeared down the hall. Wilson muttered, "That was unexpected."

"What in the hell did he say?" Foreman asked.

"Who knows. You can't push House on stuff like this. He obviously does not want to talk about it. If he thinks you're too interested, he'll never tell, or worse, he'll just screw with you. Maybe Cuddy's in a talking mood."

* * *

Wilson tried to talk to Cuddy for the next two days. Every time he saw her, she was on an important call or going to a meeting or running out the door with an apologetic smile. On the third day, Wilson tried to talk to House, showing up at his door. House didn't answer, and his spare key was missing. Wilson could hear the TV inside the apartment while he threatened to call for help if House didn't answer, but the door remained closed.

It was a long, quiet weekend. House and Cuddy seemed to vanish from the face of the earth, in fact, it seemed reasonably certain that Cuddy actually left town. Wilson was waiting outside of her office on Monday morning, and he followed her in when she opened the door.

"Hey Wilson," she said cheerily while she sat at her desk.

"Nice weekend?"

Cuddy nodded knowingly, "I was visiting my sister."

"I wasn't implying anything. How's your sister?"

"She's fine."

Wilson sat down, casually looking around, "So…"

"So?"

"So…what's new with you?"

"What did he tell you?" Cuddy asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Nothing! Who?"

"House. And you know exactly who I'm talking about."

"House has said…nothing. At all. He has never said so little."

"House was clearly the alpha. He was right…he can feel free to dangle that truth in front of me if he needs to. He has no reason to worry about me. It's clearly his issue…not _mine_. And he has to deal with that. He needs to stop acting like a child. Just because some patient thinks that…," Cuddy stalled, staring at Wilson. "House _didn't_ tell you anything…did he?"

"Maybe he did?" Wilson attempted.

"Did he send you here?"

"No. I really haven't seen him."

"Then why are you here?"

"To see you, to see…a friend…to ask…," Wilson was talking, but it was clear Cuddy didn't believe him so he caved, "What did the patient say?"

Cuddy laughed, shaking her head, "It's hardly scientific. It makes sense…in a way. Go ask House. But keep in mind that whatever he is accusing me of…the patient clearly thought _House_ was the alpha."

Wilson stood, walking toward the door, saying, "If you need to talk…"

"Thanks, Wilson," Cuddy replied as she picked up her phone.

Wilson left, each passing moment that this secret was kept from him made him more convinced that he had to know what it was. He saw House lumbering in grumpily.

"Hey," Wilson said as he followed House to the elevator. "Good weekend?"

"Great weekend."

"What did you do?"

"I sat on my sofa, drinking scotch and listening to you threaten to call for help."

When the doors to the elevator closed, Wilson said, "Dinner, tonight? My treat."

"Sure."

"Great."

As House stepped off of the elevator, he said, "I saw you come out of her office. I don't know what _she _told you, but the guy clearly thought she was the alpha. Not me."

"Why are you even bringing that up again? I completely forgot about it."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"I have plenty of things to think about that don't involve you or Cuddy."

"What did she tell you?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"And neither am I," House answered, charging into the classroom where his pool of potential fellows were waiting.

They were all at their desks, looking through files. "Check out this rash," Kutner said as he handed a photograph to House.

"Woah!" House shouted as he gawked at the picture. "That's our patient?"

"No. It's just a really hideous rash."

House took his spot at the front of the room, "Let's stick to hideous rashes on the patient. You guys suck at multitasking."

"Hey whatever happened with Mirror guy?"

House swung his head around to look at Kutner and answered, "It's clearly inaccurate, since he thought Cuddy was the alpha."

"But it looked like your first impression was that _you_ were the dominant personality...you were clearly celebrating. Perhaps you didn't like his interpretation of you," Cole suggested, "so you decided to forfeit your victory rather than accept his assessment as truth."

"It had to be something that either of them could have said," Thirteen added, "otherwise the context would have revealed who the alpha was."

"It _was_ perfectly clear from the context," House answered, "Cuddy was the alpha. I lost the game. It's no big deal, the guy was probably too distracted by Cuddy's cleavage to judge accurately."

"Distracted by cleavage…sounds more like you than Cuddy," Amber smiled smugly. "What could be worse than admitting that Cuddy is dominant over you? Maybe he figured out a secret."

"The guy isn't a mind reader. He _mirrors_," House argued, "and if I get one more question about it, you're all fired and I start over with a new bright-eyed, bushy-tailed group of applicants who can find something better to do than sit around talking about something that happened almost a week ago. Nobody cares."

"You can't fire me," Wilson replied.

"Given how much I know about you, is it worth the risk?" House challenged as he looked out at the group of applicants who eagerly awaited a piece of gossip.

Wilson began to walk away, "Still on for dinner?"

"Yup," House answered before he asked the classroom, "Anybody actually care to do something doctorish since we're already here?"

* * *

Wilson watched while House and Cuddy each carefully sidestepped all questions regarding what had happened. Whenever they were in a room together, they'd trade jabs that were scarcely masked suggestions, each accusing the other of being controlling, but they were never in a room or elevator alone.

When Cuddy received a call from Wilson that House had overdosed, she didn't hesitate. She was in her car and at his apartment in moments, running in the building and through the door. Wilson was standing inside, but she didn't see House. "Where is he?" she asked nervously, impatiently waiting for an answer, "Wilson, where is he? Is he in his room?"

The concern could be heard in her voice as she faced Wilson, but she actually jumped a little when she heard House behind her, "Where's who?"

She closed her eyes for a moment and then scowled at Wilson after she turned around and found House perfectly well. "What's going on?" she groaned with exasperation.

"Hear me out," Wilson said, hurrying over to stop her from leaving.

"Were you worried about me?" House asked smugly. "You were, weren't you?"

"This is ridiculous," Wilson told Cuddy, "I don't know exactly what happened, but it clearly has to do with something that makes you both very uncomfortable."

"So you came to my rescue? What did he tell you to get you here?" House asked Cuddy, ignoring Wilson. "Or have you been dying for an excuse to come over and get some material to fantasize about when you're in bed tonight?"

"You are the _last_ person on my mind when I'm in bed at night," Cuddy retorted as she tried to glare Wilson into letting her leave.

"Let's try talking about this like adults," Wilson said in his calmest and most soothing voice.

"You just won't let this go, will you, Wilson?" House asked, "Fine, you want to know? The guy told us that Cuddy has the hots for me. Mystery solved."

"That was _not_ what he said and you know it," Cuddy argued.

"Fine, he said that Cuddy is in love with me," House told Wilson, and turning to Cuddy, fake whispered, "I was trying to save you the embarrassment."

"That's not what he said either," she said, walking over to House, "and he was mirroring _you_ and you know it."

"I don't know that. In fact, I, _being me_, know that there is no way he was mirroring me."

"Then why are you so scared? You practically ran from that room."

"I'm not scared."

"You are. You're avoiding me."

"You're avoiding me."

"Because you act like a jerk when your feelings are exposed," she said angrily, "If you really believed it was me, you wouldn't be avoiding me…you'd be purposefully hanging around to taunt me."

"I'm trying to avoid leading you on. If you already have such _deep_ feelings it would be wrong of me to encourage that."

"Screw you. You're the one who carries a torch for me. You know it. You don't mind admitting that I have nice breasts or a great ass, but what terrifies you…is the fact that I matter to you. You like me."

"You were the one who was so worried that you _ran_ in here."

"Because Wilson told me that you overdosed. I don't have to be in love with you to be concerned about whether you live or die."

She stepped closer, her body was too close for him to ignore completely. Purposefully fighting the automatic retreat he felt like taking, he stood his ground, wanting to appear unaffected by her. To him, she suddenly felt like a much bigger presence than she normally did, and he wasn't sure if it was because she was in heels and he was barefoot, or if it was from something entirely different. He could feel her torso grazing his even though they didn't actually touch and then she said, "Wilson's right, this is stupid. Maybe…I _do _have feelings for you."

House kept a steady face, but it was obvious that he noticed her nearness, that he felt the closeness of her. "Is that an admission?"

"Find out. Go get a drink with me."

"You're asking me out to prove that you're not into me? Interesting logic. Why not figure it out right here?"

"I thought we could discuss this in private without Wilson squirming uncomfortably in the background."

"He's the one who set this up. Make him suffer."

"True. As far as I'm concerned, you have two choices: you can admit that you are the alpha…the one who has feelings for me, or you can accept that I'm the alpha."

"I'm _not_ interested in you."

"Then, as the alpha, I'm telling you that I think we should go."

"Does this mean you're willing to admit that you're hot for me?"

She stood a bit taller, her lips parted only the slightest. Wilson's jaw practically hit the floor because he was reasonably certain of what was going to happen next. House could feel the softness of her lips in spite of the distance that remained between them at all times, and she said, "Forget it," before she backed away one step.

"What?" House asked, confused when the next moment felt chillier.

"I am definitely an alpha…if not _the_ alpha in our relationship. I'm a strong, dominant personality. You and I, separately, are easily the alphas in almost any group. The funny thing is, even as a dominant personality, I'm not looking for some…submissive little boy to boss around in my personal life. I want someone else who's as dominant as I am. A man who's not afraid to tell me what he wants...or better yet, someone who wants to show me what he wants."

House's voice garbled, "Doesn't seem to follow with that whole feminist thing."

"Is it my expectation of being treated like an equal human being or my belief that I have the right to say 'no' to unwanted advances that is too much to ask? There's a universe of difference between a man approaching a woman and some creep's unwanted advances. Feminism doesn't mean frigidity. I want sex, I want to be wanted, desired, lusted after. I'd like to find a man who's willing to try, who's willing to put himself out there to find out what the answer is…is it yes…or is it no. I want to be worth that effort."

"So it's somehow my respon…a man's responsibility to figure out whether his _efforts_ are wanted or unwanted?"

"I put myself out and risk rejection all of the time…I am right now. I don't expect anything that I wouldn't try myself. I'd think a guy like you, a man who notices everything, would be able to pick up on subtle hints like body language, suggestions, cues. I think you know, but want to pretend that you don't because the possible results are worse than not knowing…and you want _all_ of the other answers. That speaks to how significant this all is. You would rather not know an answer than face the consequences of it. That doesn't happen often when it comes to you."

"Maybe I'm not all that interested in the answer."

"Oh, you're interested."

"So are you, apparently. Why don't _you_ look for the answer if you're so interested?"

"I was…I really was interested in the answer. And we were having this discussion and then I realized…why would I want a man who doesn't want me? I don't want to have to convince a guy that I'm worth it. Maybe it's a bad idea but I want that other alpha…a strong personality to bump up against. Someone secure enough that I don't have to act mousy so I can preserve his fragile ego, and bold and confident enough to assert himself."

"You only think you want that. You can't stand not being on top."

"That's not true. I like variety. Sometimes I love taking control, acting on impulse, doing everything the way I want. Being in control every single moment gets monotonous when there are so many variations just waiting to be tried. I have to orchestrate every moment of that hospital's existence. Sometimes it's nice to let go…to enjoy something without having to take care of all of the details and make all of the decisions."

"Are you admitting something?" he asked, proudly, trying to recover from the momentary reeling seconds earlier. "Can you tell me, or do I need to go get a body language dictionary and figure it out for myself?"

She pondered for a moment, should she walk away or step up, and she said, "I'm admitting something. There was something there. I'm…definitely attracted to you, always have been."

House leaned down a little, moving closer to her as if he was trying to make sure he was hearing correctly, "You admit that?"

"Sure. It means the next few weeks will be rough…you'll tell your staff and anyone who will listen…they'll snicker at me for a minute and make some dominatrix jokes, and in two weeks, at the next fundraiser, I'll bring someone new. Maybe Chris or Neil. They'll see that I'm over you…kinda quickly actually, and that will be that. I can take being mocked for a couple of weeks, I've been the source of jokes for you and your team for years so I can handle two weeks."

"Who's Chris? A pretend boyfriend? How adorable."

"He has asked me out the last three times I've seen him, and every time I say, 'I'll think about it.' I wonder why I was holding off? He's a great guy, attractive, tall, willing to express interest, willing to risk rejection for a chance. I guess that's what I was looking for all along."

"There is no Chris."

"There is," she answered, "as shocking as it may be to you…there are a couple of Chrises out there."

"Are you sure about that?"

She turned over her shoulder to Wilson, who continued to stare at the interactions in silence, and she asked him, "Do you think maybe there are one or two guys around who wouldn't mind going out with me?"

Wilson held perfectly still except for his bobbing head, "I'm sure there are."

"If you're into Chrises," House added.

Cuddy sighed in an acquiescent way, "Well, thanks for helping me sort that out. Now…feel free to discuss this all you want. Tell everyone, you will anyway. I'll face the consequences for the next two weeks. It's probably best that we addressed this now, got it out of the way so we don't have to keep avoiding each other. And when the dust settles, you'll have exactly what you want. I'm the alpha, and you didn't get the girl. You won."

House's eyes darted away from hers for a second while the truth of her statement was translated into the bare facts and he stubbornly looked back at her, "I'm glad you finally admitted that you have a thing for me."

"Had. _Had_ a thing. I am too," she took two steps back and before she left she said, "Is this going to be uncomfortable for you at work? I'm OK with it, but I don't want you to feel like your work situation is compromised or uncomfortable. Should I find you a new supervisor? Would that put you more at ease so you don't feel like you have to avoid me?"

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but she noticed. "No," he answered, shrugging his complete lack of concern for her to see, "Unless it bothers _you_."

"Acknowledging it openly has sort of…removed all of the tension for me. Resolved the issue…I actually feel sort of relieved."

She walked over to Wilson, casually flinging an arm over his shoulder and hugging the stunned oncologist. "For the record, I'm not mad about this little trap of yours. I was…but I'm not anymore. Your forced us to address this head on."

Wilson nodded as she moved away from him and walked over to House, "Do you mind?" she asked opening one arm, suggesting a hug and stepping closer until the tip of her shoe was between his toes, they were that close. She took a deep breath, allowed her eyes to move from his chest up to his face, somewhat slowly, like she was taking a parting look at him.

He nodded his head, and tried to sound smug, "I can humor you this once."

Lifting up on her toes, she smiled briefly, sweetly, put the fingers of one hand on his shoulder for balance and with her lips subtly parted, she softly kissed his cheek next to his mouth. His eyes started to close just a little because he could feel her body against his, off to the side in one line from his chest and down his leg, and then she backed away. The smile was back on her face and she nodded before she walked to the door, "See you guys tomorrow. I'll be ready, House, so do whatever you have to do. No hard feelings."

She was gone a second later, and the sound of the closing door echoed while House and Wilson faced the spot where she had been. Wilson cleared his throat, "Well, looks like you won."

"Of course I did," House answered stiffly, still staring ahead as he wondered why it felt like Cuddy had the upper hand.

"Congratulations."

* * *

-The Prompt from freeasabird14: _season 4, the episode's called "Mirror, mirror". Remember the scene when House and Cuddy argue in front of the patient...what if he admitted having feelings to one of them. Would these feelings come from House or Cuddy? I just thought that the scenario might be fun to see how both of them would react towards the other._


	2. A Pair of Lies and the Clinical Tell

_A/N-Thanks to all who've read so far and favorite/followed and to the commenters: IHeartHouseCuddy, Jane Q. Doe, ammeboss, lenasti16, JLCH, JM, aussiefan12, OldSFfan, bere, Boo's House, ikissedtheLaurie, LapizSilkwood, Mon Fogel, dmarchl21, BabalooBlue, Guest, jaybe61, Huddy4Ever, CaptainK8, freeasabird14, maya295, Abby, HuddyGirl, Alex, LoveMyHouse, LisAvenger, Guest, KiwiClare and linda12344._

* * *

**-A Pair of Lies and the Clinical Tell-**

_The night after their discussion in his living room, House woke in the early hours to the sound of footsteps. Cuddy was there, walking into his room from the hallway. She stood by the door and before he could speak, she held her finger up to her lips to tell him she wanted him to be quiet. He was still in bed, but propped his body up on his elbows while he watched her. Without a word, she began taking off her clothes. She wasn't really stripping, it wasn't for show, but he couldn't deny the beauty and allure of the sight of her, removing her clothing right in front of him. She met his eyes occasionally, a tempting smile finding her lips each time she caught him looking at her while she disrobed. He tried to sit up, but she walked closer, holding her hand out so that he'd stay where he was. _

_She got into bed, sitting on her knees next to him, he could feel the bed shift under the weight of her body. He couldn't say no, not anymore, not when they were there like that in the dark of night, alone together. The look on her face made him feel alive, made him want her more than he'd wanted anything in ages. Looping a graceful leg over him, she leaned forward, she was on all fours, surrounding his body, but somehow not touching him. Her face moved closer, he could pinpoint the places on his body where he would feel her first once she allowed the gaps to shrink. The visit had been entirely quiet except for the environmental sounds around them: squeaking floor boards, a creaking bed, the rustle of falling fabric and fluttering sheets. When she finally spoke, she asked, "Do you want me, House?"_

_He nodded his head, unequivocally offering her an answer, the look of need in his eyes proving his intentions to her._

"_Tell me. I want you to say it," she whispered._

_He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her that he needed her more than he'd ever needed a woman. He wanted to make her believe every syllable that he was about to speak. But he said nothing. It wasn't for lack of trying. He kept waiting for the thoughts in his head to emerge as spoken words which never came. _

_She tilted her head, accepting the reality with a bit of regret. He looked down between them, at the slice of light that separated their bodies, and tried to lift his arms to pull her closer, to convince her to wait until he could find his voice, but his limbs were too heavy to lift and he watched while she pulled her body slowly away from his. _

"_I always knew you didn't _really_ want me," she said after she picked up her clothes. _

And he woke. It was the same fucking dream. There were different versions: one in his office, one in the clinic, one at the bar he frequented. It always ended the same, with her naked and so close he could feel her, but when she wanted him to react, he couldn't. He was waking up every night and most mornings like that, feeling aroused, lonely and irritated. He tried taking more Vicodin, he tried taking a little less Vicodin, he tried adding sleeping pills, but the dreams persisted.

When he had seen her that Monday morning, he expected her to be at least a little nervous or concerned while she was awaiting his next move, but he was the one who seemed to be affected. She looked relaxed, refreshed and perfectly at ease. And for his retaliation, he did absolutely nothing.

When she looked even more relaxed on Tuesday morning, he started to wonder if she'd already started seeing someone, because as tired and frustrated as he looked, she didn't appear to be tense in the least. He saw her in the halls and she acknowledged him. She wasn't too friendly or too curt, she acted as if everything was normal. When they bumped into each other on an elevator, she offered a friendly smile as she noticed how disgruntled he was. "You OK?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he snipped, "so you don't have to come over and check on me."

"Wilson's sweet. He meant well," she commented before she stepped out of the elevator, "but don't worry, I won't be stopping by for any surprise visits."

He started to wonder if she knew the way she was tormenting him in his dreams and then he wondered again, quite unhappily, if her calm was the result of a new man in her life, if she had so simply moved on past the tension and flirtation they'd been nurturing for years and found something simpler.

* * *

By Wednesday morning, after far too many Cuddy teasing dreams, he realized he'd have to do something, because things were getting worse instead of better. Cuddy had the upper hand, but he was going to get it back.

Wilson followed as his friend walked to the clinic, talking about a reality TV marathon that was coming up.

"Hello…," House looked down at the file, "twenty year-old male with an infected piercing."

The patient turned his head, revealing the infected piercing at the top of his ear for examination. The angry, streaky skin was spreading to his face. "Something's really wrong," the patient said calmly, "none of my other piercings did this. It's red and my skin feels really hot."

"When did it start?"

"Yesterday it started looking really nasty. It hurts. Thank god it didn't happen when I had my wang done."

"What?" House asked, shaking his head.

"Oh sorry, I meant my-"

"I know what you meant. The 'what' was a statement of disbelief, not a request for a translation."

"Want to see?"

"I'll take your word for it."

"Anyway, nothing else got this bad. I don't know what's wrong."

"You have cellulitis. I'll give you a prescription. You also choose really stupid displays of rebellion, or whatever it is that your piercings are supposed to be proof of. There's no prescription for that."

"Cellulitis? Is that bad?"

"It's not _good_."

"You're against piercings and stuff, aren't you?"

"I just like to use certain parts of my anatomy for other things. Often things that don't involve really sharp metal objects. But, it's yours, so do whatever you want with it. If anything falls off, keep it on ice and don't stop at the clinic. Go straight to the emergency room."

House began to write the prescription and Wilson questioned, "What are you going to do about Cuddy?"

"Nothing," House answered.

"What do you mean, 'nothing'?"

"I _mean_ nothing. She was just screwing with me."

"I think…she was serious."

"Cuddy wanted proof she's the alpha. She was trying to get a reaction."

"She succeeded. Have you slept at all this week?"

"Who's Cuddy?" the patient asked.

Wilson folded his arms, explaining, "Some people would argue she is the best looking woman in the building. A woman who's smart, funny, actually interested in him."

"Nice going, man," the patient said, nodding at House approvingly.

"Oh, no," Wilson added, "he turned her down."

"No wonder you're so pissy."

House glared at the patient, "This is my natural charm. And I didn't 'turn her down' because she wasn't really offering. She's not interested, it was a power play. A game."

"All she wanted," Wilson explained, "was for you to make…some sort of effort. To step out of your safe, unhappy little comfort zone and show her that she's worth it."

"You heard her, she said she _was_ interested and then said the moment had passed…so essentially, she took it all back. Or…she was never interested in the first place and she was just screwing with me all along. No matter what, it wouldn't have mattered what I did because her mind was already made up."

"I think that, 'sure, Cuddy, I'll go get a drink with you,' might have made a difference. Or even, 'Yes, I'm insane for turning you down, any chance you'd still consider going out some time.' Either of those statements would have worked."

"Forget her," the patient answered, "I'd go for the bossy one who was out there, yelling at that nurse. Grey eyes, black hair, perfectly round a-"

"I don't think she's interested in pincushions," House interrupted, glaring, knowing immediately who he had last seen speaking to the nursing staff in the clinic.

"All that I know," Wilson jumped in, trying to hold House's attention, "is that if you would have put in a little effort…things might be very different right now."

After the patient was gone, House limped out to the counter at the center of the clinic and stood near Cuddy while they both made notations in files. "My last patient wanted your number," House commented.

"Did you give it to him?" she asked without concern, signing off on one chart and moving to the next.

"He's right there," House answered, nodding at the overly inked and pierced young man grinning from the door. "He has piercings in some very sensitive places."

"An interesting answer to the question of whether or not you gave him my number."

"Like you'd go out with a guy with _hardware_." She stopped writing, pondering the idea, and he added, loudly, "Oh my god, are you…considering it?"

"Maybe."

"Would you actually go out with a guy with a metallically en-"

"Depends," she interrupted.

"On what?" House scoffed, "exactly what condition would make that a viable option for you?"

"Well…is he interested enough to come over and make a move? Or is he going to stand by the door, grinning at me and waiting for something to happen?"

"He has metal in his _penis_…on purpose."

"Might be fun," she said calmly before looking at House's face for a reaction.

When he caught her playful expression, he smirked a bit and then he saw it. The truth became perfectly clear when she stretched and her fingers slid down the graceful shape of her neck while her attention turned back to the files in front of her.

She sighed with sarcastic disappointment, "He's probably a little young for me, so I guess I'll never know."

House didn't answer, so she looked back at him and could see the mischievousness look on his face as an idea occurred to him. "What?" she asked, "what's that look?"

"See ya later, Cuddy," House said before he grabbed his cane and hurried away from the clinic.

* * *

She had been awaiting his next move. She did her best to look unconcerned, but the truth was, a scheming House was a dangerous opponent. And when she saw him in the clinic, he definitely seemed to be snapping out of his funk and returning to his more devious ways. She fully expected him to do _something_. There weren't any irritating 'Cuddy luvs House' signs in her office, people coming to her with questions about him or even suspicious looks directed at her. He did nothing. Suddenly, the fact that he had done nothing worried her.

After the largely uneventful start to the week, there was a request for her to meet with his patient that Thursday. She steeled herself and went to the correct room. House and his team were all standing outside of the room, conferencing on the case. He nodded at her when she approached, and, after a few more instructions, he sent the team to do the various things he wanted done.

"You wanted my approval on something?" she asked professionally when they were the only two remaining.

"More of a second opinion," he answered, leading her over to a tall chair near the nurses' station and giving her the file.

"OK," she said, after taking a seat and reviewing the information. "Where are the test results?"

"For that patient?" he pointed at the file as he looked around, "Who knows."

"Is this even your patient?" she asked as she tried to read the name.

"Which one?"

"This one!" she growled, holding out the paperwork.

"Oh, that file…no. That's why I don't know where the test results are. I can't keep track of all of the patients in your hospital, Cuddy."

"Just do whatever you're going to do to me or get started with whatever you have prepared. I'm busy, I don't feel like standing around and waiting for…whatever is about to happen."

"I was just tired of being surrounded by all of the baby talk from my newbies and wanted a real adult conversation. I hear that happens to people who work with small children."

She chuckled as she began to fiddle with the pen that he had attached to the file. He stood back and watched her for a few minutes without saying anything until she impatiently asked, "What?"

"Nothing," he answered, pulling a piece of paper from his jacket, unfolding it and holding it very close to his face. His eyes moved back and forth from the paper to her before he reached out, took the pen from her hand and wrote something down.

"What's that?"

"A case I'm working on. Had a mini epiphany, an epiphaniette, earlier in the clinic."

He folded the paper and began to shove it back into his pocket when he stared down at her feet and smirked. Whipping the paper back out, he made another notation before putting it away again.

When another doctor tried to get her attention, Cuddy asked House, "You done with your cryptic epiphaniette paper-writing display?"

"Sure."

"You aren't making me nervous and you aren't freaking me out," she said with a look of determination.

"Good. I wasn't trying to." She felt the back of her skirt and shirt, tried to look over her shoulder. "What are you doing?" he asked, amused.

"Looking for the sign or wet paint or whatever you just did to me."

"Seems rather amateurish. I'm hurt that you think so little of me."

"What did you just do?"

"I wrote down a few observations on a piece of paper. Stop being so paranoid."

"I know you're planning something," she countered, trying desperately to hide the cracks in her composure, "and I'm still not worried."

"What's there to worry about?" he questioned before he turned away, smiling as he limped down the hall.

* * *

She felt her confidence waver. He was definitely up to something. But the rest of Thursday went by without a word, and most of Friday as well. Near the end of the day on Friday, House came into her office with Wilson, Cole, Amber and Kutner. Cuddy was sitting on her sofa, and watched as they each seemed to take assigned places around the room. Wilson's arms were folded and he looked irritated to be involved in whatever was going on around him.

"What do you need?" Cuddy asked, "I have an appointment in five minutes."

"We had some questions about hospital policies," Cole stated like he was reading lines from a teleprompter.

"There are a lot of those. Which ones do you have questions about?"

"Consents, procedures and treatments," Kutner said.

"Which procedures are covered under the standard admissions forms?" Amber asked.

"I'm sure Dr. House is fully aware of which procedures and treatments require additional consents. So is Dr. Wilson. Wilson, you are here because…?"

"I'm observing," he answered before turning to House, "Satisfied?"

"I think so," House confirmed.

Wilson nodded, closing his eyes and gesturing toward the door, "Great. Can I go now?"

Everyone began filing out of the room and Cuddy asked, "Exactly what was that about?"

He pulled the same paper from his jacket that he had written on the day before, a little more wrinkled, made some more notations, returned the paper to his pocket and said, "Diagnostics."

"Fine," she answered, gathering her things, "I don't care."

"Are you sure about that?"

"That I don't care about these games? Yes, I'm very sure."

"OK," he said, tapping his cane on his shoulder while he thought, "When you say you don't _care_…"

"You have six more days until the fundraiser. You better hurry up and get your fill of Cuddy-mocking in before I show up with a date."

"I nixed the Cuddy mocking."

"If you announce that I _was _interested in you after it's already obvious that I'm dating someone else, you're going to look jealous and your whole plan will backfire. You'll look like the one with the crush. Which, oddly enough, is exactly what your Mirror patient thought and what started this whole thing."

"My plan will backfire? Am I planning something?"

"When are you not planning something?"

A soft knock on the door caught their attention, and when House saw the tall, distinguished man on the other side of the door, suspicions were raised. "Is that Chris?"

"No," Cuddy said as she stood and took a spot in front of House, "it isn't."

"Then who is it?"

"The new rep from Nylor Pharmaceuticals."

"Does he have a name?"

The knock came more insistently at the door, and House took a long step forward, leaning roughly on his cane so he could get there quickly. He opened the door, switching his cane to his left hand and offering a demanding, phony handshake to the visitor, "Greg House, hospital diagnostician."

"Leonard Light, I'm with Nylor."

Cuddy approached the rep, reaching out her hand, "Lisa Cuddy. Dr. House was just leaving."

"Perhaps he'd like to come with us?" Light asked.

House didn't miss a beat, "Are we going out?"

"We often like to begin relationships with potential clients over dinner. Dr. Cuddy, would you care to go out and discuss the futures of our organizations? Dr. House is more than welcomed to come along."

"I'd love to!" House said, staring into her.

"That's very nice of you, but I can't tonight," Cuddy explained, "I was under the impression that this was a short meeting."

Light shrugged, "It is, dinner is informal."

"We could schedule dinner for next week. How's Tuesday evening?"

"That's perfect," Light agreed, "Dr. House, will you be joining us?"

"Definitely," House replied immediately. "Cuddy, what do we have going on tonight?"

"_We_…don't have anything tonight," she answered, "but _I_ have plans."

"I'll leave these with you," Light said, handing her some materials about his products with some confusion obvious in his expression, "look them over and we'll talk on Tuesday."

Cuddy watched while Light walked out the door. House stepped closer, "So, what's on for this evening?"

Looking up at him out of the corner of her eye, she smiled, "I don't have a date tonight, but it doesn't really matter, does it? You aren't interested. You made that clear. So I have no idea why you're even asking about it."

"You also said you _had_ feelings…in the past tense…as in you no longer have them. You said you felt freed after addressing the issue."

"What does one thing have to do with the other?"

House leaned closer, catching her eyes fully and said, "I'm thinking they're both lies."

"You don't want _me_…you just want me to want you." She smiled, tilted her head, "You're…an attractive man, funny and kinda charming at times, smart too. Go out tonight. Buy a drink for a beautiful woman and see what happens."

"OK. Where will you be again?"

* * *

House stood in front of Cuddy's front door. He could hear the party inside, and he had seen a few people through the window when he was crossing the street. Bottle clenched in one hand, he tucked his cane under his arm and felt the now well-worn piece of paper in his back pocket to make sure it was there. Just before he was able to knock on the door, it flung open. A blond-haired woman with a look of extreme disapproval on her face took one quick look at him and said, "Who are you?"

"Greg House. I'm here for Cuddy."

"_Cuddy_? Do you mean _Lisa_?"

"That's the one."

"You're a doctor?"

"It's not work related," he answered as he thought about walking around the irritable woman and bypassing an official invitation.

"Then why are you here?" she asked, her suspicions elevated as she started evaluating him more carefully.

He held up the bottle of wine and said, "I wanted to buy her a drink."


	3. Under Advisement

_A/N-Hey all! Thanks to everyone for reading and to the last chapter's reviewers: IHeartHouseCuddy, lenasti16, freeasabird14, jaybe61, LizLo, BabalooBlue, JLCH, JM, LoveMyHouse, ikissedtheLaurie, grouchysnarky, Huddyphoric, bere, jkarr, vicpei1, LapizSilkwood, somebadhat, Abby, Huddygirl, Alex, dmarchl21, linda12344, Maya295, Boo's House, Ruby and the Guest Reviewers.  
_

___Sorry about the delay, life is a bit crazy, and the chapter came out a bit longer than I anticipated. __Here's the ending. _  


* * *

**-Under Advisement-**

Cuddy stood in her kitchen, chatting with her cousin while they made desserts. The older blond woman who greeted House bustled into the room, her presence seldom went unnoticed anywhere for long. The older woman, Arlene, gestured toward the door, "Lisa, some coworker of yours is here. He said he wants to buy you a drink. Not the most appropriate time for social calls, the middle of a family gathering and all, but-"

"Hunh?" Cuddy asked, processing what was being said without looking up.

"Some doctor is here for you, dear."

"Could you be more specific? I know a lot of them."

Looking up just as he entered the kitchen, Cuddy saw House approach her with a combination of discomfort and bravado. He stood next to her, examining the scene as if he had discovered a tawdry secret, "Cuddy! Doughnuts?"

"What are you doing here?" Cuddy asked, keeping their conversation quiet enough to be somewhat private. "You're buying _me_ a drink?"

Speaking at the same semi-private volume and brandishing a bottle, he answered, "I'm taking your advice."

"That's not _a_ drink, it's an entire bottle."

"You didn't say I couldn't buy myself one too. Plus, the second part of your suggestion was to 'see what happens.' I thought maybe you'd want a second drink in the course of 'seeing what happens.' If things went well, I didn't want you to have to wait here for me to buy another one."

"I see you've thought this through."

"Definitely. After all, you're checking out twenty year-old clinic patients and boring pharm reps-"

"I was not!"

"So I thought if I had to leave to get you another drink, you might be distracted by any man who happened to be standing around."

"I'm related to almost everyone here by either blood or marriage."

"Lately your standards have really dropped."

"My _standards_ are exceedingly high."

"And yet, you haven't kicked me out. Interesting. Were you thinking of drinks directly out of the bottle or are we going high-end and using glasses?"

She pointed to the cabinet next to the refrigerator, watching while he made himself oddly comfortable in her kitchen. Arlene was surveying, in her own way imagining that she was being subtle about her observations. "Didn't take you long to feel at home," she said while House limped back over to the island where Cuddy was working.

"Maybe this isn't the first time I've been here," he commented suggestively while he handed a glass to Cuddy, "and I already felt at home."

Cuddy smiled at the drink after she sipped, offering a look of approval at his selection. Arlene grabbed the bottle from the counter, "Well at least you don't have terrible taste in wine."

"I have fantastic taste."

Cuddy pointed at fillings for the doughnuts, obviously trying to prevent any extended conversation, "Pick: hazelnut, strawberry or chocolate?"

"When my mother made them, she just dusted them with powdered sugar," Arlene complained, "and everyone was happy. You don't have to gourmet up everything in order to impress people. I know I just want one with-"

"Wait," House interrupted, grabbing an almost filled doughnut from Cuddy's hand, "let me guess." House placed the recently filled doughnut on the counter and, with a flat palm, smashed it down, expelling the filling onto the counter. He grabbed the powdered sugar, dumped some on top and held out the flattened pastry to the older woman, "Just sugar?"

Arlene scowled at his hand while Cuddy grabbed a fresh one, sprinkled sugar over it, put it on a plate and handed it to the older woman.

House scooped up the recently displaced filling with a finger and tasted it while Arlene walked away. "Maybe she is the one I'm supposed to be buying a drink for," he commented, "please tell me she's single."

"Widowed," Cuddy answered as the kitchen emptied, "and I can't wait to hear the hospital gossip machine when people see you ogling your future step-daughter."

"You're kidding."

"Go for it."

"That was your mother?"

"Yup."

"Perfect. Do you ever worry that she's meaner than you? Makes you look weak?"

"I'm overwrought with concern."

He dipped the flattened doughnut into the filling that was recently displaced, "This is good. Does she have something against things that are tasty?"

Cuddy chuckled, "She would tell you she has a thing against snobbery."

"As long as snobbery tastes good, I'm all for it."

Cuddy promised to return when she was pulled away to do other things, and House took a seat at the counter. A woman came in, grabbed a drink from the fridge and said, "Where'd Lisa go?"

"I have no idea."

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Chris," House answered.

"Oh, nice to meet you, Chris. I'm Julia."

Noticing that there were no outward signs that Julia recognized the name, he said, "What if my name is Neil?"

"Ummm…OK?" she questioned, confused, but still without offering any signs that she recognized the name.

"Or Greg House," he finally said.

There it was, the flicker of recognition while Julia looked over the food on the counter for a moment, pretending to be uninformed, but her face gave her away. "You sure about that?" she asked, "maybe you should check your ID."

"Completely sure. You're her sister?"

"Why should I tell you? I'm still not convinced you are who you say you are."

He held up his cane and saw it again, the recognition. "So she _has_ mentioned me?"

Julia's responses were a little slower and less commanding than her sister's, but similar. After a second's delay, she said, "Not that I remember."

"You took the cane as proof. She's mentioned me."

"No, I just…thought…"

"So what has she said?"

Julia opened her mouth, hesitated and said, "Chris, Greg, Abe Lincoln…whatever your name is…did you know that this whole get-together is for my birthday?"

"Doughnuts instead of cake?"

"My grandmother used to make them on special occasions when we were kids. We were reminiscing about it recently so my sister surprised me."

"Happy Birthday."

"But I'm pretty sure you're not here for my birthday."

"Why would you say that?" he asked, acting offended.

Cuddy walked back into the kitchen, and the moment she saw her sister and House alone, chatting, she approached much faster. Julia put an arm around her sister and said, immediately, "Who's this?"

Cuddy looked at House and was ready to answer before she thought better of it, "Who did he say he is?"

"He's either Chris or Niles or Greg."

Cuddy smirked, "You mean Neil?"

"That's it."

"This is Greg House. He's a doctor at the hospital."

"That's what I told her," he answered.

"After you claimed to be someone else," Julia accused.

A child called in the background, and Julia followed the voice, leaving them alone in the kitchen.

"Why are you prying answers from my sister?" Cuddy asked him, propping one hand on the counter. "If you want to know if I've mentioned you or if I'm seeing anyone, why not ask me?"

"Because you'd lie."

"No I wouldn't.

"Fine," he countered, looking directly into her eyes, "have you mentioned me to your sister?"

"Yes, on occasion."

"Complimentary things?"

"Depends on the day."

"Have you been bringing dates to family functions lately?"

For a moment she seemed to regret her offer to tell him the truth, then she shook her head, "Not for years. I usually only introduce them if I think they're going to be around for a while and, as I said, my standards are high."

"But you introduced me."

"Technically, you introduced yourself."

"True. Not the best indicator of my status then, is it?"

Shaking her head with the most subtly coquettish look on her face, she took a tiny piece of her bottom lip between her teeth and then he breathed his victory. She watched while he reached into the back of his jeans, pulling out a paper that was, by that time, so tattered and torn it looked years old. He unfolded it slowly, holding it close to his body. Reaching to take a pen that was resting above the phone on the wall, he made one more quick note on the paper and she whispered, "Just tell me what's on the damn paper that you've been dangling in front of me."

"I took your advice, twice…so if it doesn't work out, I'll never listen to you again."

"Oh god. Which advice did you take and twist?"

"Beautiful women and drinks. I don't think I twisted that one at all."

She considered a response, "I'm waiting for the punch line."

"No punch line," he said, his honesty making her more uncomfortable than any of his jokes did.

"What does that have to do with the paper?"

"This," he held it up, "is the result of the other piece of advice that I took. You said that I should be able to tell if a woman is approachable by signs and body language. So…I did a little research."

"That was smart," she said before she walked out of the kitchen and into the garage to bring in more drinks.

House followed her, "So far, you've exhibited every behavior on the list but one."

"Which one's that?"

"It's called framing," he propped his cane against the wall and hooked his thumbs on his belt loops, letting his fingers hang down, "like this. Apparently it's to call attention to the location of your vagina. I figured, subconsciously, you already knew that I could find it on my own."

She shook her head, trying to straighten a smirk, and folded her arms, "But you think I sent all of these other signals? Minus the framing, obviously."

"You definitely have. I've gathered the evidence. The evidence does not lie."

"So, now that the research is done, what does that mean?"

"There are a few complications. Like the fact that I work for you."

"Barely."

"Technically, you're the one who says whether or not I get paid."

He took the one step down into the garage and leaned against the deep freeze as he tossed a Vicodin into his mouth. Standing about two feet away, she added, "Agreed. Which means it would be horribly inappropriate for me to approach you twice. Once is understandable, but twice…you could easily see that as harassment."

"Hardly, I showed up uninvited at your home during non-working hours. If you're harassing me, it's because I want to be harassed. And what happens if I decide that I'm going to actually take the risk?"

"I guess you'd need to be ready for the answer. And, ultimately, perhaps the _benefits_ of that answer."

His eyes lit for a second and he added, cautiously, "Or a more negative reaction. There's still the very real possibility that you'll react poorly. You could get offended or feel uncomfortable, things would be even more awkward at work. Face it, who else is going to supervise me? And annoying you is one of the unwritten benefits in my contract. Without that, it's just a job."

"Sounds like a difficult decision."

"It really is. I've seen the cues, biting your lip like you just did in the kitchen when you were practically throwing yourself at me-"

"Throwing myself at you?"

"Or that whole neck touch thing in the clinic when you were trying to get my attention."

"Was I _trying_ to get your attention?"

"Well, cognitive, modern day, evolved Cuddy might not have been trying to get my attention, but instinct-driven, un-evolved, primal Cuddy was begging for it."

"Un-evolved, primal me sounds pretty hot. If it's such a science, I'm not sure what's holding you back. You seem to have all of the answers."

"There's this little unknown that keeps nagging at me. You said in my apartment that you've always found me attractive."

"I admitted that, yes. I don't really think a lack of attraction is our problem."

"Right because just wanting…_wanting_ is easy. The follow-through gets more complicated."

"It's slightly less complicated if the wanting is mutual. And you've made your position pretty clear on the whole wanting and attraction issue."

"I guess that's fair. But you also said that the moment was gone, so I'm left to wonder, does a physical attraction for someone necessarily mean that the answer to a come on is yes? I mean, you may be physically attracted, but mentally or professionally, you might have too many reservations about acting on that attraction."

"Which means it's still risky for you because signs and signals don't translate to a sure thing," she nodded. "I can see the reasons for concern." She stepped in front of him, her arms unfolding while her fingertips met in front of her. "As a person who so recently faced rejection, I commiserate."

He stood upright, no longer leaning so he was a bit closer, "Maybe you weren't actually being rejected…maybe the man in question was just a bit uncertain about recent events. Maybe he knew that sometimes it's best to avoid potential problems and just walk away. Or maybe his wannabe match-maker friend ambushed both of you and was standing there...just in the guy's peripheral vision."

"I think he would have rejected me even if his friend wasn't there."

"That's possible. Which takes us back to the idea that maybe he needed some time to think about things, or _maybe_ he thought you were playing a game."

She stepped the slightest bit closer, looking up at him with eyes that were sincere, "No matter what games were being played, I was interested. But I still want a guy who's willing to put himself on the line for me so I know I'm not pushing him into something that he doesn't really want."

"I know," he said, reaching out his left hand to touch her right side. The small concession was laden with possibility, a touch that was voluntary and deliberate, an admission offered through the palm of a hand and the subtle wrap of fingers around the curve of her waist. "Someone who's willing to put themselves on the line with a touch?"

"Yes," she agreed, her hand moving to rest against his chest, "that's one way."

"One who would spend days seeking proof of the possibility that you're interested?"

"That's less direct, but sure."

"One who would show up to buy you a drink at home, since you didn't go out?" the fingers of his other hand went to the space below her neck, to touch the section of her clavicle that wasn't hidden beneath her sweater.

"Yes," she answered, moving even closer to him and looking up, the fullness of her lips available to him.

He closed the remaining gap, his right hand sliding up her neck and surrounding her face, his thumb tracing the meeting of her lips for a second before it retreated so nothing would separate his mouth from hers. His action was more than equally rewarded, because as soon as he made the next move, her thinly repressed interest was allowed to surface, as if all that had been holding her back was the confirmation of his intent. She sighed as their mouths met, with still subtle but long awaited tastes. They moved even closer, bodies pressed fully against each other as they sampled the forbidden. As House leaned back against the deep freeze behind him, her body came along, the soft sounds that were evident between them indicative of relief and exhilaration.

His body was craving her even from the kiss and the sensation of her shifting hotly against him. He was growing increasingly aroused as he pressed against her body, their forms separated by layers of clothes that could be so easily shed. His fingers found their way under her shirt, curling around her back and grazing against her spine. When she felt the compliant twinge of her senses, the flood of warmth and wetness that her body so easily offered in response to him, she had no desire to be reminded of the realities of their situation, but her ears caught the piercing sound of her own mother's voice on the other side of the door. The responsible segments of Cuddy's mind overruled her otherwise eager self. She moaned his name, prepared to tell him that they needed to wait, but the sound of her voice did nothing to deter him. His hands lifted her against him, their bodies, once in better alignment, automatically rocked against each other in a display of what each was promising if such access was granted. He breathed her name back at her, softly, a necessary answer to her, and she was practically climbing him until she heard the voices on the other side of the door again.

She slid down, both of her hands flat against her chest. His lips were wet and deep pink, his mouth open as he breathed, and then a look of loss crossed his face. "Party," she explained simply, reaching up to offer quick kisses of consolation, "we have to get back in there."

Nodding once, he almost unwillingly agreed, his brain attempting to wrest control from his libidinal urges. "It's late. They should be going," he suggested.

"Some of them are staying the night. I'm so sorry, I can't do this tonight."

"So I finally show up here tonight and…fine. Not tonight. When?" he asked suspiciously.

"Tomorrow night…tomorrow afternoon, actually. I will make it worth the wait."

"Sure," he agreed unhappily, "or you could come over to my place in an hour…where there are no visitors."

"And leave my guests here? Unless you want to go tell my mom that I need to leave so we can fornicate, I don't think that will work."

He looked determinedly toward the door, obviously willing to explain the need for fornication to whoever would listen. Seeing him in the early stages of planning, she warned with words that flew quickly from her mouth, "Do not tell my mom that."

"Fake a hospital emergency?"

The door opened as Cuddy gathered the drinks she needed for her guests. She brushed past him, whispering, "We only have to wait a few more hours," before offering louder excuses for her absence to her mother.

The door closed as House looked up at the garage light above his head and waited until his desire became unnoticeable again before regretfully returning to the party. It was, in spite of obvious frustrations and delays, an interesting way to watch her. He could observe the dynamics between her and family members, watch the subtleties of her flirting with him in the presence of others after confirming her interest in him, but he couldn't concentrate on those things.

When he moved for the door, she intercepted him, "Second thoughts?"

"Not at all."

"You can hang out for a while."

"Is that a slumber party invite?" he asked, hopefully.

"No."

"As fun as your family is, I keep thinking of all of the things I'm going to do to you tomorrow…stuff I would gladly be doing right now if you'd let me. And I figure Uncle Henry's gonna be a little confused if I get turned on when he's telling stories about his cockatiel."

"It's a macaw."

"Cockatiel sounded better. Although in retrospect, I guess I could have gone with 'bird'…the word 'macaw' is euphemistically useless."

"Believe me," she smiled, "I would rather be doing exactly the same thing you want to be doing. I will reward your patience."

The two hours after he left were filled with goodbyes, getting overnight guests settled and cleaning up after the party as Cuddy tried to keep her focus on the things that needed to be done. Her mind flashed to their moment in the garage, to the teases of the preceding days and the possibilities of what the next day could bring. As she showered, part of her wondered if House would lose his will to try just when they were so close to something.

He thought she would be a little more surprised to find him, actually lying in her bed after everyone else had gone to sleep. When she returned to her room, she didn't jump or even seem startled when he said, "Something's bothering me."

"Then go home and masturbate like every other resourceful, sexually frustrated human being on the plant."

"I already did."

"Already?"

"You'll thank me later."

"Why are you here?" she looked at him in a mirror while she brushed her hair, keeping her voice at a whisper.

"Like I said, something was bothering me."

When she was done brushing her hair, she stood next to the bed, arms folded to keep her silky robe closed around her body. "You can't stay tonight. My mother is in the next room."

"It's been a really long time since I heard that one."

"So tell me what's bothering you, and then you have to go."

"What's she going to do if I stay, ground you? She'll forbid you from approving purchase orders and doing yoga for two weeks as punishment?"

Cuddy tried to shoot an angry gaze that was softened by her amusement, "They just met you, as far as they know…we only work together."

"They know we don't just work together."

"I don't want to give the impression that I make a habit of having one-nighters with employees."

"Is that what this is?"

She firmed her jaw, took a deep breath and said assertively, "I hope not. So tell me what's wrong and then you have to go."

He sat up, propping pillows behind him so he was upright in her bed, leaning against the headboard. "I've known you for a long time. I've watched you. I've seen you do the little lip nibble thing, the head tilting thing, the subconsciously suggestive inanimate object fondling …all great body language moments."

"Yes, the crinkled paper, the evidence, the proof."

"Exactly. I made sure you were doing all of those things after the whole 'I'm over you, House' speech you gave me. You're so not over me."

"I'm pretty sure we've established that already."

"But the neck thing…," he started, letting the thought hang in the air and watching her shift uncomfortably.

"What neck thing?" she tried to recover, brushing one of her sleeves casually with her hand while she forced herself to maintain eye contact.

"The thing that you did in the clinic when we were talking about metal-head."

"I don't know-"

"You know," he huffed so loudly that she shot him a warning glare. He started to whisper, but his tone was still certain, "In all of the years I've known you, you have never done that. It stuck out because it was weird. It was pronounced, you _wanted _me to notice it. You stretched, your hair was pulled to the side and you slowly touched your neck. It was _intentional_."

Her protest began so weakly that she knew it was pointless, so she tucked her lower lip into her mouth and narrowed her eyes, "What if it was?"

"You did that just days after suggesting to me that I should pay attention to body language to tell if a woman is approachable. You were telling me you were approachable…you were luring me in."

She smirked, confessing with her eyes, "Would that be a horrible thing? Are you really going to be unhappy that I've thought about you like that or that I've hoped for…something more between us?"

"Why not before? Why now?"

"Because that patient was mirroring you. I hate to admit it, I wanted to be the dominant one in that room, and whether I am or not…the patient thought you were. And then, when you lied to Wilson about what he actually said-"

"I didn't lie."

"You remember everything. But you _chose _not to tell Wilson the whole truth."

"The overall message was the same."

"No…it wasn't. That's why you hid it. The Mirror patient said, 'I've _never_ gotten over you." _Th__at_ is what he said. That is completely different from lusting after someone or even being currently in love with them. You know that and _that's_ why you hid it. It had…history and implied an enduring emotional connection. It was bigger."

"I thought we were discussing your trap?"

"We can, if you want, but it doesn't change what happened. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that…even though he _was_ mirroring you, he could have been mirroring me just as easily."

House's thoughts stopped dead, she could almost hear his brain screeching to a halt, and, for a few moments, she thought he'd leave as quickly as he did after the patient's disclosure. And then he took a breath and settled back against the pillows. He looked at her after a moment and she could see a mix of relief and contentment in his expression. "You admit that you did that on purpose?"

"The thing in the clinic…yes. The other signs were unintentional. But yes…the neck thing was deliberate. Apparently it worked."

"Apparently. So when you said you were over me, that was a lie?"

"You shut me down pretty hard, it was an understandable counter-move."

"You also said that you didn't want a 'submissive little boy.' Is that the truth or part of the game?"

"I'd think that's obvious. Intimacy is different than work."

"I hope so. I like your answer," he nodded, carefully considering her statement, "I'm just not sure if I believe you. It's possible you're lying because you have a recent history of-"

"Wait a minute…you said you had no interest in me. You lied too."

"You set up the trap."

"I…pointed out a possibility. Where you went with it was up to you."

"I like your alphaishness, Cuddy, I really do, but I'll need proof that you really want what you say you want."

The way that he said it drew her attention to his eyes, to the lust-filled stare he had honed on her. She nodded, laughing subtly as if to tell him that she knew what he was trying to do, but it wasn't going to work. She hadn't even noticed that his hand was outstretched and touching the piece of her thigh that was closest to the mattress. It was unclear when or how his hand found its way to her leg, but once she noticed it, the touch occupied most of her thoughts, demanding to be heard like a siren in the quiet of night.

When her thighs tightened against each other, he could practically feel how aroused she was, but she shook her head, "I'm not having sex with you tonight."

"So like every other sexually frustrated, resourceful adult, I guess you've already met your own needs?"

"I was here, cleaning up after the party and getting everyone else settled in. I didn't have as much time on my hands as you did."

"I was thinking about you," he said as his head tilted a bit and he watched his hand dare to wander slightly farther upward.

"Were you?"

"I often do," he admitted, "but lately I think about you a lot more."

His hand was under her flimsy nightgown, her robe open. His thumb tugged at the bottom of the nightie, "Hold that up for me so I can see."

"I can't have sex with you tonight."

"So far you're failing to prove to me that you can surrender control on occasion."

She was instantly irritated, but couldn't stop herself from welcoming the feeling of his hand on her body. Her fingers curled around the hem of the nightgown and she pushed, "Let's set some limits."

"This is you letting go?"

Although hesitant initially, she complied when he helped her lift her nightie higher, and she held it in place, acknowledging fully that her body was moving forward and encouraging progress even though her mind understood how much more difficult it was going to be to say no with each passing step. She could feel her body screaming for attention, negotiating between the obligation to tell him to stop and her body's not so subtle requests to continue.

His eyes focused on her swollen and glistening sex when he realized she wasn't wearing panties. He was too distracted to ask if she neglected to put them on because she was hoping he'd come back. He wanted to lap up the moisture, to taste the arousal that was there because of him. He'd earned it, he'd provoked a sexual response in the woman, although they had barely touched. His thumb slid along the wetness, making as little contact as he could while still touching her. Her hips tilted in invitation, offering him a better view and easier access. He suppressed the urge to taste her, to allow his tongue to dive into the silken folds of her body even though the offer was clearly there. He turned his palm up, his finger dragging forward slowly, allowing it to reach a bit more insistently.

Her breath transformed, becoming slower and her lungs filling more completely. When she looked at him, she didn't find the smugly victorious person that she had expected. He seemed to be as overtaken as she was.

"I can't do this tonight," she tried so unconvincingly that it was almost laughable, making the attempt one last time as her eyes grew heavier and fluttered upward a bit.

Letting go of her nightie with one hand, one side swooshing down to cover her again, her fingers wrapped around his wrist for the express purpose of stopping him, but once she was there she held him against her.

"You're directing me," he informed her.

He dropped his head when she pulled away from him completely and left his side. He was confounded by her ill-timed departure until he heard the lock click on her door. She walked back to the bed more hurriedly, "You'll have to leave before everyone gets up."

"It's a wonder I ever questioned your ability to let go and relax."

"Shut up," she said, shaking her head with playful reproach, "I'm letting you stay for a while. I thought that's what you wanted."

He nodded slowly, taking his phone, setting an alarm, and assuring her, "I'll leave when this goes off."

"Thank you."

"Are you done ineffectively demonstrating your ability to not control things?"

She nodded once, decisively, her head tilted to one side, "Yes," before she leaned down, bracing her hands on the bed and leaning toward him.

He moved to the edge of the bed, took her wrists and pushed them behind her back, "If I need to actually tie you up, you'll have to accept that you have a complete inability to let go. I mean, it's not entirely unexpected, just know that we'll be starting this whole thing between us on that foundation."

"Then stop talking…and _do _something."

The challenge sent chain reactions of sensation through his body, he was fully alert, entirely aware in that moment. He pulled her closer, letting go of her hands and slowly lifting the nightie again, exposing her hips and belly button, the narrowest section of her waist, her ribs. Pausing before exposing her breasts, he watched while she slipped her robe from her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the ground.

As she stood there, he moved his face along her side, across her hips, acquainting himself with her body at his own pace. She found herself both desperately wanting more and wanting to freeze the moment, the two competing interests pulling her mind. Before she could plead for more, his fingers returned to her, finding her wetter than before, the puffy flesh of her sex pleading for his attention. Following the contours of her body, he leisurely ran his fingers along every pleasurable space, not spending too much time in any spot, just ratcheting up her desire with each passing stroke. All of the touches were dips and soft flicks while he indulged in her whole body response. She was still standing in front of him, gravity pulling more heavily on the spots most flooded with need. Her breathing was only slightly louder, accented with delicately approving moans and regretful sighs when he'd move on too quickly to another spot.

Even he was astounded by her patience at one point, at the way she was trying to allow her body to revel in the feelings without demanding more. Two of his fingers surrounded either side of her clit before sliding backward and slipping just an inch or two into her. "God, House," she said quite clearly, with anger and arousal, pleasure and ache, all from the same series of unhurried touches, "make me come."

He only smiled at her, his one arm bringing her closer and turning her around so she was sitting on the bed between his thighs, her back against his chest. He pulled her left leg over his, leaning back a bit so he could have access to her body before he said, "I was going to…and then you got bossy."

She groaned in response because she could feel the demanding pulse between her legs, pleading for attention. His hands palmed her breasts, transferring his attention to something that under many other circumstances would have felt wonderful, but at that moment was just another diversion from the desired direction. Feeling him hard behind her, she tried to reach but heard his voice in her ear, "Don't do it."

She was fidgeting against him, his rough jeans against her skin, as his attention reached the point where it was becoming too frustrating to enjoy, and he whispered against her neck and shoulder, "I've felt like you feel for days…you've been making me crazy."

"Why didn't you say something?" she purred. "Why didn't you go out with me when I asked you?"

His pace slowed even further, and he looked at her over her shoulder as he tried to find the answer, "I…don't know."

When he began to move again, she peered through the slits in her eyelids, saw the look on his face and tilted her mouth toward his, hoping that he'd take the suggestion.

He took her face in his free hand, kissing her fully before lifting her over him and dropping her on the bed. His mouth slid down along her body quickly while he tried to remember why they were waiting. No reason seemed important enough to wait any longer, so he nestled his face between her thighs. She pushed him away a few times because her body was so sensitive that she could hardly stand the touch. Adjusting to the amount of pressure her body could handle, he returned to his devoted meeting of her needs, and she was soon wriggling against him.

When he finally let her orgasm overwhelm her, her upper body shot up, the muscles in her thighs so tense they twitched against him. Her heels were digging into his back to hold him closer but after a few moments, her fingers separated his mouth from her body so she could stop the insanity of all of the converging feelings.

She pushed him on his back and straddled him, sitting on his abdomen and facing away. "How have I been making you crazy?" she asked, running her hands up his thighs.

"Strutting around at work, showing up in my dreams."

"Me?" she asked over her shoulder, popping open the button on his jeans and opening his zipper.

Once she was able to get rid of most of his clothes, her hands began to explore his body in a way that seemed almost casual and curious, allowing her to learn his responses and at the same time, repay him for some of the pleasant torment she'd endured. His hands went to her sides, his thumbs meeting at the center and roaming the soft expanses of skin along her back and ass. "I know you're in control again, but whatever you do, please, oh please don't toy mercilessly with my body until I come."

She could hear the laugh in his voice but the hitch that occurred near the end when she firmly encircled the base of his sex and began to stroke him made her smirk. Eventually slipping off his abdomen, she turned toward him, "You're saying a lot of words, so why has it been so difficult to get you to admit that you like me?"

"You're sounding like my dream."

"Tell me about this dream."

Watching him, it was clear that he was trying to concentrate enough to form coherent thoughts, and she enjoyed how much of an impact she could have on him. He said, quickly, "I'm somewhere, different places, and you come find me. You get naked. You get really close but when you ask me to admit that I want you…you leave."

"I just leave?"

"Because I won't answer."

She looked worried, he could see it, "So your subconscious doesn't want us to…"

"Oh, I _want_ to answer. I can't."

"I didn't think I was that frightening…not to you."

"You aren't," he avoided eye contact.

She climbed over him, like she did in her dream, on all fours around him, but in reality she couldn't prevent their bodies from touching. "Am I like this…in your dream?"

He nodded, anticipating the frustration of the usual outcome that he'd been trained to expect.

"And then," she slipped against him, teasing him with subtle undulations of her body, "What happens next? I ask if you want me?"

"Yea."

"It feels like you want me."

"I do."

"Not so difficult, is it? Probably not as hard as showing up here with that bottle of wine."

Her hair had fallen around them, she was over him, her mouth open, her still wet and tantalizing sex was warm against him, he could almost feel his body moving into hers. Impatience started to crawl through his skin. He pushed his torso upright with his hands, "In case there's any lingering questions, I definitely want you."

She snaked down his body, moving seductively over him until she finally took him in her mouth. She was trying to build tension as he had for her, varying pressure and speed, but essentially that moment had begun weeks ago, so almost any contact was too much contact. Her nails scraping along his skin, tickling and scratching while he watched every move she made until he couldn't bear to watch anymore and his control fizzled and crumbled into a long awaited release that seemed to make all of the waiting and games worthwhile.

* * *

They half-slept until their bodies awoke each other again, and the thrill of having a lover that was so long denied fueled their desire. He was over her, the two of them frantically urging their bodies together, chasing mutual gratification. The alarm on his phone sounded on her bedside table just as she bit down into his shoulder, his mind and body too consumed by the way her body pulsed and rubbed against his to be bothered with the sound. She grabbed the phone with her hand, smashing buttons until the noise stopped, completely unconcerned that it was time for him to leave. She didn't care about the time, not when he was pounding into her body with a perfect rhythm while his hands held onto her like nothing could make him let go. Each made just a bit too much noise when they came together in the early hours of the morning.

He woke up with Cuddy, still mostly on top of him, feeling pretty good about how he found himself that morning until he realized that it was daylight, and he was already supposed to be gone. Cuddy's eyes opened, she looked at House and her clock, some part of her brain assuring her that if the clock said it was still early, the sun was somehow wrong. Smiling sheepishly at House, she started to speak and he intervened, whispering, "Don't blame me, _you_ turned off the alarm."

"Because you were having sex with me! I didn't have the presence of mind to reset it at the time."

"Are you looking for an apology?"

"No," she said as she sat up, looking around her room. "You're right, this is my house, I'm an adult. I'll just explain that we're seeing each other."

He looked at her body, partially naked in front of him, "Yes we are."

She started gathering his clothes and tossing them on the bed. "Do you want to hang out up here until they go? I know my mom can be sort of…much."

"Is that what you want?"

"No. But I was the one who turned off the alarm. That wasn't your fault, so if you don't want to…"

He sighed, feigning remorse, "I can't let you take all of the blame. If only I wasn't so _incredibly_ good at sex, you could have reset the alarm when it went off."

She scowled a reprimand that was so mixed with flirtation and affection that it just made him want her more.

At that moment, they heard the angry voice of Arlene Cuddy, shouting, "You're out of creamer for my coffee and some jackass has me parked in. Lisa, whose beat-up, old car is that?"

Cuddy cringed as her mind considered the discussion that was likely going to take place. House, undeterred by Arlene, yanked Cuddy back into bed, "Arlene's gonna be so excited. I think she already likes me."


End file.
